Survivors
by Debb
Summary: The Grey Wardens begin their recruitment at the Circle Tower and find that it is in no state to offer help.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **A plot bunny that bit me and refused to let go until I wrote it down. AU in that in this, Duncan recruited both the City Elf and Dalish, but only the CE went to light the beacon with Alistair while the Dalish was left in the battle.

Constructive criticism appreciated as always.

* * *

The king is dead and the world screams around him.

The beacon is lit, no soldiers are coming, the shem they were relying on to reinforce their numbers, nowhere to be found and Theron of Clan Mahariel watches in horror as the darkspawn come at them in waves.

His blades drip with blood, his armour stained. The smell of smoke is heavy in the air, the orange fire burning brightly, the ice cold rain like knives against his cheeks. The roars of the darkspawn are deafening, the screams of the men more so. The darkspawn drag them away, back into the holes they came from, while others swarm like flies around the dead.

Duncan fights, despatching the ogre that has killed the king. He runs to the fallen monarch, wounded, exhausted, collapses to his knees. He knows the darkspawn are there, he stares at the lit beacon and fights them with the last ounce of his strength.

This is enough to shake Theron from his fear-induced stupor and he fights, blades moving in a flurry, blood spraying and bodies falling. Duncan falls, Theron rushes to him.

"Go..." Duncan tells him, "Find Alistair...and Darrian, if they've survived..."

Theron nods. There's nothing he can do. He wants to stay with Duncan, he might not like the man, but no one, not even this shem should die alone. The darkspawn decide it for him however.

Duncan sees the oncoming horde, roughly shoves him and he scrambles to his feet. He doesn't dare look back.

He runs. Runs through the horde, past the dying soldiers, through the Wilds and away from Ostagar. The darkspawn follow, there are more the further he goes, stragglers he can kill. He cuts them down, keeps running, even when his chest burns, his lungs afire and he is unsure whether his legs can carry him. He runs.

Ostagar is an orange silhouette, the Tower of Ishal with its beacon of false hope, glowing in the darkness. Distantly, he can hear the darkspawn, can hear the remaining men scream their last, disturbingly it is mostly women he hears. He doesn't want to know what the darkspawn are going to do with them. He stops, he can't run any further and he leans on a tree, coughing, gasping and sinks to the ground.

He wipes his eyes, his brow, stares at the ground. He tries to tell himself he's fine, he's not. Tells himself he's alive, more than can be said for the other Grey Wardens, it's of no comfort. He takes his knives, takes some cloth, tries to scrub the blood off of the metal, something, anything to distract himself from the noise, the echoes.

He feels a tingling, can smell them, the dirt that clings, he stays on the ground, wiping the blades. He can see them out the corner of his eye. He gets to his feet, holds the blades, ignores the aching in his legs, his chest.

He takes a breath then launches into an attack. He ducks, moves, avoids the hurlock's blades, kicks the genlock and stabs it. He moves behind a hurlock, stabs its back, pulls his knife out, stabs its chest and slashes its throat. Black blood sprays like a fountain, he leaps back. He's careless, tired and falls over the genlock's corpse. The other hurlocks take their chance, advancing on him, one stabs its blade into the ground as he rolls away. The other kicks his ribs, pain explodes and the hurlock kicks his stomach, all air leaving him. He still has his knives and as the hurlock that kicked him aims its sword to kill him, he stabs its foot and crawls away.

He's going to die.

He's going to die in the Wilds, alone, killed by darkspawn. He glares at them defiantly, staggers to his feet. He will fight, he may die, but he will fight.

A howl resounds behind him. He doesn't dare look, doesn't dare believe that something, someone may actually be on their way to help him. He can hear the mabari hound barrelling towards him and it leaps at the nearest hurlock, tearing its throat out. He takes the chance, attacks the remaining hurlock, leaving it a bloody mess on the ground.

The mabari trots over to him and sits down, staring up at him.

"You're the one the Flat-Ear helped," he says. He kneels down, puts his knives down and gives the hound a scratch behind the ears. "Ma serannas..."

The tears come swiftly and unending. He throws his arms around the dog's neck, weeping bitterly into its fur, and feeling entirely ashamed of it. It's tears of gratitude, relief, that he's alive, that he's not another corpse to be dragged away by darkspawn.

The dog nudges him and sniffs at his ear. He lets it go, wipes his eyes and scrubs at his face. He picks up his knives, sheathes them on his back then stands up. He takes a last look back at Ostagar then back to the dog.

"All right hound, what are you doing out here?"

The dog barks and walks on ahead of him, looking over its shoulder and barking again. He frowns and follows it.

"What? You're...looking for someone?"

Another two barks. The dog takes hold of his cuirass, tugging on it insistently. He's surprised by its strength, it manages to pull him forward a few steps.

"Who are you looking for, hound? And why do I need to come?"

The dog lets go and barks at him. He's getting annoyed and wondering why he's being ordered by a dog.

It barks again and goes to jump up at him. He steps back, the dog is pounds of muscle and could knock him over without even trying. He kneels down to it instead, takes its face in his hands, treating it almost like one of the halla, as if it'll understand him.

"Tell me who you're looking for," he tells it. The dog sits in front of him, he lets go of its head and it licks his ear. "The Flat-Ear? You're looking for the other elf Warden?"

The dog actually growls at him this time.

"What, you don't like me calling him that?"

The dog barks affirmative.

He stares at it. "You're too smart for your own good, you know that?"

The dog wags its stumpy tail and stands up again.

"All right. We'll go and find him. With any luck the shem will be with him, maybe some other survivors."

The dog barks happily and bounds on ahead, Theron following it a moment later.

It's a day later when he and the dog find the Flat-Ear and the Shem. There's another with them, the Witch of the Wilds, the thief called her. If she's surprised that he's survived, she doesn't show it. He meets them on the road, halfway there, darkspawn somewhere nearby though he can't quite pinpoint where.

The dog spots them first and it runs on, over to the other elf, barking happily and the Flat-Ear kneels down to it. Then the darkspawn appear.

The dog growls, ears pinned back and stays in front of the Flat-Ear. The elf draws his own weapons, a knife and the sword he had during their sojourn into the Wilds. He walks around the dog, the hound following him at his heel.

Theron turns and starts to back away, knives at the ready and he does a quick headcount. Seven against five. Not bad.

They attack, the alpha coming at him and he dives out of the way. The Shem rushes in, smashing his shield into one hurlock, slashing another while the Witch fires her spells from a safe distance. The Flat-Ear goes for the alpha. He thought _he _had a death-wish, which he does, but he's not nearly so openly suicidal as the Flat-Ear. The elf charges it, blocking attacks, dodging, slashing, not staying in one place for more than a second. He lets the Flat-Ear distract it, gets up behind it and tries to stab it. The alpha whirls around, and backhands him. He stumbles, recovers himself, dodges. He moves to the Flat-Ear's side, glancing to him. The elf glances back, raises an eyebrow then leaps to one side when the alpha attacks again. He leaps to the other side and the alpha is shot with a cold blast of ice. They take this chance and attack as one, from either side and bring down the darkspawn. As much as he really doesn't like to admit, they do indeed make a good team.

The Shem has dealt with the others, one or two stragglers remaining and these are cut down quickly. They regroup and the dog trots up to the Flat-Ear, tongue hanging out and wags its tail happily. Its found its new master.

The Flat-Ear frowns and kneels down to it once more. "Is this the dog I helped in Ostagar?" he says. He makes no move to pet it, only looks at it, then back to the Shem for confirmation.

"He must've been out here looking for you," the Shem answers and looks down at the dog. "He's...chosen you. Mabari are like that, they call it imprinting."

The Flat-Ear looks at the dog and raises an eyebrow.

The Witch however sighs. "Does this mean we have this mangy beast following us now? _Wonderful._"

The Shem frowns. "He's not mangy!"

The Flat-Ear stands up. "Well if you like him so much you can have him."

The dog whines and hangs its head. In that moment he could hit the Flat-Ear and he narrows his eyes at him.

"Me? I don't want a dog. I can barely look after myself."

"So many comments spring to mind, I cannot even begin to choose," the Witch adds.

The Flat-Ear groans. "Morrigan, don't." He sounds as if he's fed up. "Let's just go." The elf starts to walk on and he catches his arm. "Oh what, you want me to take the dog as well now?"

He glares at the Flat-Ear. "You can't very well leave him here, not with so many darkspawn around," he tells him.

The Flat-Ear wrenches his arm out of his grip and he knows he's beaten. "Fine. Fine it can come with us, but I'm not the one feeding it." He stalks on ahead of the group.

The dog stands up, unsure of whether to follow or not with the reception it's just been given, then looks to him and the Shem. He reaches down and gives it a pat on the head.

"Well, better catch up," the Shem remarks, then looks to him, "I'm...glad someone else survived, by the way. I thought it was just us."

He shakes his head. "I'm still here. Thanks to the dog."

"You must've been in the thick of it..."

He nods.

Alistair pauses, then asks, "Did you..." He stops and clears his throat. "Were you there when Duncan..." He doesn't finish.

He nods again.

"How did he...?"

"Sh..." He stops to correct himself, can't keep calling him 'Shem'. "Alistair, don't ask. Not now. Later perhaps."

Alistair nods, appears almost grateful then stays silent the rest of the way.

They camp a few hours later, the rest of the darkspawn horde thankfully some distance away. Lothering is another day's walk and even then, he doesn't quite know what they plan to do. A Blight is coming, if Duncan was to be believed, and there are all of three Grey Wardens to fight it, three _novice _Grey Wardens at that. He tries to silence these thoughts, let the Flat-Ear think of a solution, if he's the leader of this little band. But he can't. Three Grey Wardens against a Blight, an Archdemon. The thought fills him with fear, with dread and uncertainty. He feels a lump grow in his throat, tears sting his eyes and he shuts them tight. He's scared and tired and he retreats to the tent he's pitched. There he stays till it's time for his watch. He pokes his head out, fully expecting to see Alistair or the Witch, Morrigan, coming for him since the Flat-Ear took first and didn't come for him when he was finished.

Instead it's the Flat-Ear.

"Did you just pull a double-shift?" he asks, impulsively, the question voiced before he stops it.

The Flat-Ear nods. "Morrigan's shift is after yours. Alistair couldn't do his."

He frowns.

"He was upset, I let him be, for now."

So the elf has _some _compassion after all. He leaves the tent, sits down near the camp fire, draws out his knives and tries once more to clean them. The dog walks over and lies down next to him. He reaches out and gives it a pet.

"He'll come round I'm sure," he tells the dog, sure that it'll understand to whom he refers to.

The dog whuffs in response.

Three Grey Wardens and a Witch and he's finding better companionship with the dog than any of the others. Tamlen would laugh, he was sure. The tightness in his chest returns, as does the lump in his throat. He hasn't thought about Tamlen in days, hasn't thought about how much he misses his friend, and how guilty, terrible he feels that he left his best friend behind.

The dog lays its head on his leg and he pats its head. "I'm fine," he tells it.

The dog whines and looks up at him.

He wipes his eyes. "Go see your Master, might appreciate a bit of extra warmth." He gives the dog a nudge and it obeys him, going to the Flat-Ear's tent. It goes inside, he waits a few moments, to see if the elf throws it back out. He does not.

Theron continues his watch duty alone and when his shift is over, he wakes Morrigan and retreats to his tent for a few hours rest.

They pack up camp, leave for Lothering and to begin the task of stopping the Blight. _Creators help them_, he thinks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **I am so rubbish at updating on a regular basis. Firstly, thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter and to those who added the story to their alerts/favs. The story took a slightly different direction than what I'd intended, seems to have morphed from one or two chapters to spanning the entire game, so we'll see how that turns out.

Constructive criticism is appreciated as always.

* * *

In Lothering, they meet a madwoman and a Qunari, and the Flat-Ear decides to take both with them. He gets involved in everything, even when the shem give him a look that clearly says they're unimpressed with a 'knife-ear' helping them. He sorts out the merchant and the chantry sister's argument, does work for the Chanter's Board, and tricks the 'Chanter' into speaking something other than the shem Chant. Something, he will grant, did bring a small amount of amusement, and he would wager, was done for that very reason.

Morrigan is equally unimpressed with his 'good deeds' of the day and Theron can't help but agree with her. He will agree (grudgingly) that they need supplies here before they move off, however he does not see the need to get involved in every single dispute they come upon. He doesn't say anything, he knows this will just cause even more friction, and the Flat-Ear is unpleasant enough as it is.

The one thing he does have to give the other elf credit for, is that he cares enough to ask if Alistair wishes to speak of Duncan. The conversation is quiet, held at the back of the group and ends with the Flat-Ear saying something, clearing his throat and walking on at a brisk pace. Alistair has a small smile on his face and shakes his head. He stops for a moment and falls in step with Alistair.

"I take it that went well?" he says.

Alistair nods. "You know, he's really not that bad. Underneath it all he's a big softie."

He raises an eyebrow. "I dare you to say that to him."

Alistair snorts. "Not likely. He's only just started speaking to me."

He chuckles quietly. The Flat-Ear's moods do swing from one extreme to the other. 

They leave Lothering and run into more darkspawn. There aren't many and with the extra help of the madwoman and the Qunari, they're despatched easily. They travel on, though he's unsure of just _where _they're going, and set up camp some hours later, just before sunset. The Flat-Ear appears more tired than usual. His head droops as he sits beside the campfire and he shoves his meal around the plate, playing with it. He lies down on the bedroll, examining the map then retreats to his tent. It seems obvious he will not be covering the first watch.

Theron wanders the camp, tries to make himself busy, sharpens his knives and sits by the fire a while. To all of their surprise, the Flat Ear comes out of his tent just in time for his watch and takes up his post.

Alistair however does not seem pleased.

"Are you sure you feel up to this?" he says.

The Flat Ear nods. "I'll be fine. I can still sense darkspawn."

Alistair sighs. "It's not just darkspawn we have to worry about. There's bandits and now Loghain's men looking for us."

He receives a glare for his concerns. "I said I'd be fine."

Alistair gives up. "All right, I'll take your word for it."

Another sleepless night then. The dog, Mutt, the Flat-Ear has so 'creatively' named it, sits by his side. Even if the Flat-Ear is not much use to them, at least something will alert them. He throws a last glance to the Flat-Ear, noticing the look of regret and how, for a moment, he reaches out to stop Alistair leaving. He falls short of calling the shem and goes to his post, the dog at his heels.

The Flat-Ear does his shift, wakes Alistair and collapses on his bedroll outside, asleep almost immediately. Theron leaves them. He peeks out of his tent briefly then lies back down on the bedroll. Sleep does not come easily, it hasn't for days. Between dreams of darkspawn and dreams of Tamlen, he doesn't know which is worse. He awakens sometime before his shift on the watch and decides to stay awake. He leaves the tent, steps over the Flat-Ear and sits down at the now dimming fire.

The Flat-Ear seems to be suffering the same affliction. Nightmares torment his sleep and he tosses and turns. For the most part, Theron ignores him, at least until the Flat Ear awakens. He startles them all when he cries out, Theron has his hand on his knife, ready to throw it. The Flat-Ear looks around in a daze, then mutters a quiet "Maker's breath..." when he realises he's still in the camp and not wherever his mind took him.

"Bad dreams, huh?" Alistair says quietly. He seems to have been expecting this.

The Flat-Ear jumps, having not expected the other Warden to be awake let alone there. "Something I ate..." the Flat-Ear answers, indignant.

"Your yelling had us thinking we were under attack. Most normal people's dreams don't usually do that," Theron adds, snidely, earning himself a harsh glare. He matches it until Alistair clears his throat to interrupt.

"It's part of being a Grey Warden. You can hear the darkspawn, that's what your dream was."

The Flat-Ear frowns and loses interest in his glaring match. "What about the dragon then? What was that?"

"The archdemon. I don't know if it really is a dragon, but it looks like one. It talks to the horde and we feel it just as they do."

_And that's what we have to face to end this Blight _Theron thinks and tries hard to suppress a shudder.

Alistair sighs briefly. "It takes a bit, but you can block the dreams out. Some of the older Grey Wardens said they could understand the archdemon a bit."

"I doubt it has any interesting to say," the Flat-Ear mutters.

"I doubt it too. Anyhow, I thought I should tell you, since you were thrashing around and all. It was scary at first for me too."

That seems to have hit the wrong note and the Flat-Ear glares at him. "I wasn't frightened," he snaps.

Alistair appears unfazed, even though he throws a glance Theron's way. He shrugs and lets Alistair continue, for he certainly isn't going to speak to the Flat-Ear.

"I screamed like a little girl. Duncan said he thought I had someone in my room." He chuckles at the thought of it and Theron can't help but snort slightly. "Not embarrassing at all." He stands up from the campfire. "Looks like everyone else is awake, and you're up now, right? Might as well pull up camp."

The Flat-Ear mutters something under his breath. "No, I'm not sodding well up. I'm going back to sleep for another couple of hours." He trudges back to his tent and throws the flap shut.

"Do you think it's a talent he has, to be so unpleasant, or is he putting it on?" Theron remarks, glaring at the shut tent flap.

Alistair can only shrug.

The dog is kicked out a moment later and Theron calls it over. It plops down next to him, Theron scratching behind its ears. "You know lethallin, you should've imprinted on me, I'd have at least given you a better name," he tells the dog.

Alistair snorts quietly. "As I recall, you wanted nothing to do with it."

Mutt whines and gives him a look.

"Oh you shush." He shoots Alistair a mock glare until he looks back down to the dog again. Mutt is giving him puppy eyes, asking 'you didn't really want to leave me, did you?'. Theron sighs. "You're ganging up on me. And you, dog, are meant to be on my side."

Mutt snorts and lays his head on Theron's leg.

Alistair chuckles. "Too smart for his own good." 

Theron lies down, determined now to get a couple of hours extra rest if they aren't packing up camp yet. It doesn't come easily and when it seems like he's just fallen asleep, he's plagued by more nightmares. He awakens, what feels five minutes later, to Alistair and the Flat Ear arguing once more. He's tempted to turn over, leave them to it. Reluctantly, he gets up, limbs dragging, feeling as if it's an effort just to sit up.

By this point, Alistair seems to have given up arguing his point, the Flat Ear returns to his tent and comes out a moment later with his travel bag. He stuffs the items into it, his bedroll already tied to it. Theron watches him and the Flat Ear sighs and looks up.

"He doesn't like that we're going to Denerim so soon," he says.

Theron raises an eyebrow.

"You have taken my advice after all?" Morrigan says, having finally left her place at the other side of the camp.

The Flat Ear shakes his head. "We need extra supplies, money. Lothering didn't have as much as I'd hoped it would, nor does the dwarf, Bodhan." He pauses and glances to the Qunari and madwoman. "And I wasn't counting on anyone else joining us. Or a dog."

"T'is your own fault for being so...helpful." Morrigan wrinkles her nose, even as she says it and Theron can't help but snort slightly.

The Flat Ear rolls his eyes. "Just...go get your stuff together. We're leaving soon."

"As you wish." She shakes her head and goes back to her own little corner of the camp site.

The Flat Ear turns his attention to him. "Go on, say it. I know you'll disapprove of going to Denerim while Loghain is there."

Theron holds his hands up. "I didn't say a word."

The Flat Ear snorts. "There will be a first then."

Theron grits his teeth, counts back from ten and waits till the Flat Ear goes over to the dog before he kicks the log and wonders just how _anyone _can put up with him for any amount of time. 

Almost four days later, they are in Denerim, following the Flat Ear as he navigates his way through the streets effortlessly. Theron can't help but be fascinated. He'd never been in a city before and though he didn't speak to the other Flat Ear, Pol, for long, he found it hard to believe _this _was where he came from.

The houses are clustered together and there are more shem than he has ever seen in his life. What few elves they pass don't dare meet his eyes, they keep their heads down and follow their masters. _Like pets _he can't help but think. The Flat Ear's gaze lingers on them for a moment then he continues on, his pace swift.

Their plan, if it could be called such, was to get in and out before anyone would hear that a Grey Warden was in the city. With any luck, they'll be gone if Loghain does hear about their visit.

They reach the market and the Flat Ear finally slows. While he rummages through the bag he has put excess items in and what Theron assumes he'll be selling, Mutt barks and runs off ahead of him.

"What...Hey! Get back here!" the Flat Ear shouts.

Mutt trots back a short time later, a child at his heels.

"No, you can't keep him." The Flat Ear glares at the dog.

Mutt whines.

"No. Put him back where you found him."

Mutt grumbles and wanders away, the boy following.

The Flat Ear sighs. "Maker's breath...So much for getting in and out quickly."

Theron looks around the market. It is an open field of stone, with more buildings and a barrage of merchants all shouting over one another to sell their wares. The group disperse. The Flat Ear, Alistair and the Qunari, Sten, wander off to the various shops, Morrigan looks around and blinks at the sight. She seems as taken aback as him. Strangely, he finds this a comfort.

Leliana shifts her weight from one foot to the other, eager to go and she hooks her arms through Morrigan's and his own, and drags them off to a nearby stall. It has shoes and while she browses, Theron takes another chance to look around the city.

"I...have never seen such a collection of merchants and people before," she remarks, "T'is always so?"

Theron shrugs. "I wouldn't know. I've never been in a shem city before either."

"Truly? You were never curious?"

He shakes his head. "I wandered off from the clan from time to time, but never for long. Always left Tamlen to cover for me."

Now the Witch's curiosity is peaked. "Tamlen. This is the one you cry out for during the night, yes?"

He frowns.

Morrigan however smiles, smug. "Your fellow elf's are not the only nightmares keeping the camp awake at night."

He sighs. "Yes, Tamlen is who I've had nightmares about. Drop it." He pauses. "Please. I don't want to talk about it...him."

"A touchy subject? Fine, I shall leave you be."

He silently thanks the Creators for small mercies, though he is sure that she will bring up the subject again sometime. 

Leliana drags them to another stall and they pass the Flat Ear and the rest of the group. The Flat Ear rushes off towards a nearby gate, a guard standing to the side of it. From the distance they watch as the Flat Ear grows agitated, gesturing to the shut gate. He gives up and stalks back to them. The rest of the day he spends quiet and withdrawn and more than once does he look longingly at the shut gate. They leave the city when the shops close and set up camp at sunset.

At the camp, the Flat Ear spends most of his time poring over the map. He jumps when Alistair hands him his plate of food.

"Anything interesting?" he says conversationally.

The Flat Ear nods. "I was planning our route. I was thinking of going to the Circle first, overheard a rumour about it being attacked."

Alistair's eyebrows shoot up and he sits down next to the Flat Ear. "You heard those men as well then?"

"It might be nothing, but...If we have to go there anyway."

Alistair nods. "I'd still rather see to Arl Eamon first but I won't argue with you."

The Flat Ear smiles slightly. "This time."

Alistair snorts quietly. "Yeah, for a change. Seems all we've done is argue so far."

"Yeah I...Sorry." The Flat Ear rubs the back of his neck and glances away.

The sun goes down, the Flat Ear takes up his watch, Mutt once more at his side. Alistair sits at the fire a while longer, as does Theron, conversation bubbling up every so often, then dying just as quickly. The Flat Ear sits down next to the fire and sighs.

"My mother," the Flat Ear says suddenly, startling them both. "You asked me if I'd lost anyone when we were talking about Duncan. I have, I lost my mother."

"I'm sorry. Can I ask...what happened?" Alistair answers, careful.

The Flat Ear nods. "Shem...Humans killed her."

Alistair scoots a bit closer, eager to take this opportunity presented. Theron pretends not to listen, turns his attention back to cleaning his knives. All the same, he leans closer to hear the tale himself.

The Flat Ear speaks of Adaia, his mother who taught him what he knows of how to fight and how he lost her. Theron wonders if this is a truce, a peace offering for acting as he has so far. To hear him speak of his mother, it occurs to Theron just how _young _the Flat Ear is. Barely twenty seasons, a few years his junior, and thrown into this. Saving Ferelden from the Blight, to face an Archdemon. At twenty seasons, he and Tamlen...He shakes his head and cuts that thought short. Almost a full day without thinking of him.

Despite himself, he feels a pang of jealousy. It's only now he's managed to extract the story of his parents' death from Ashalle. The Flat Ear had twelve years worth of memories to comfort him, to fall back on. He has nothing but a necklace, a story and a childhood of unanswered questions and unsatisfied curiosity. Knowing this, he wonders if they've anything else in common.

The Flat Ear finishes his tale, Alistair thanks him for telling him. They retire for the night, the Flat Ear returning to his watch shift. The next day, they set out for the Circle of Magi and begin to gather their army in earnest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Somehow this chapter turned into "The Morrigan and Theron Show". Even I have no idea how. Note this is how I played my game, dumped Morrigan when I found Wynne as I was running low on healing potions. I admit, I did kind of rush some of the end parts, so if anything doesn't read right or there's typos, point them out to me. And smack me for writing when I'm tired and in pain and liable to make mistakes.  
Thank you as always to those who added this to their alert list and favs :)

Constructive criticism appreciated.

* * *

It takes them almost a week to get to the Circle Tower from their camp outside Denerim. The Flat-Ear is slightly more personable than what he has been, he's answering questions civilly and not with one word answers, that even then are given grudgingly. For a while, Theron finds him tolerable, likeable almost (not that he'll admit that part) and manages to strike up a conversation or two with him.

Halfway through the third day, the Tower comes into sight. Theron is at the back of the group, Morrigan nearby, somehow the two have begun something of a friendship. Or at least, as close as in Morrigan's and his own case. She looks at the Tower's silhouette, curiously, then tilts her head.

"T'is surely not just me who thinks the tower looks like a giant phallus," she remarks and looks around the group.

Theron has stopped dead, while Alistair groans and the Flat-Ear has one eyebrow raised, an expression of puzzlement on his face. He shakes his head and sighs, deciding he's best not answering.

Theron on the other hand, tilts his head and squints at it. "I think you might be right," he says.

"There, you see? I'm not the only one."

The Flat-Eat groans. "He's only saying that."

Theron glares daggers into the Flat-Ear's back. "Because you're a mind reader after all."

The remark shouldn't annoy him as much as it does and their fragile truce is ended. The Flat-Ear scowls over his shoulder and says no more, Theron, resisting the urge to kick something, preferably, the Flat-Ear.

He's been irritable all day. He's sure it's lack of sleep that yet another night of bad dreams, along with Tamlen haunting him has made him take offence where none was intended. However, he's stubborn, far too much, something Ashalle always remarked upon when he was younger. Due to this, he was never the one to apologize first. The few and far between fights he and Tamlen had, it was always the latter who approached, knowing he would sit and simmer over whatever the dispute. He had been terrible for it, and he knows he's even worse now.

Alistair slows his pace and falls in step with him, Morrigan marching on ahead. Theron says nothing and doesn't even acknowledge the man being there.

"Are you all right?" Alistair says. For a moment Theron thinks he looks as if he's bracing himself to get his head bitten off.

"I'm fine," he answers. While it is not the ground out, say-another-word-and-I-will-hit-you that Alistair seems to be expecting, it is none too friendly either.

Alistair goes back to the Flat-Ear, leaving him to glare holes in the elf's back until the pitch camp. 

Theron spends the majority of the evening away from the others. It is Morrigan's turn to cook the dinner, he's thankful for that. His fellow Grey Wardens are terrible at cooking and if he didn't know any better, he would be convinced the Flat-Ear was trying to poison them. If he had the wits enough to do so, or the knowledge of it.

The Flat-Ear helps out with plating up dinner, whether out of politeness he's not sure. It is Morrigan who brings his, when it seems obvious that he is not going to retrieve it.

"I'm sure my mother did not intend for me to skivvy after you Grey Wardens when she sent me with you," she says and puts the large plate down next to him. She has her own plate in her hands and Theron gestures to the empty space beside him.

"I wouldn't know, I wasn't there," he answers, a small smile on his face.

She rolls her eyes. "I take it you are in a better mood than what you have been."

He nods. "Somewhat."

"Good. There is only so long one can put up with your scowling at everything."

He doesn't answer. She's right however he doesn't want to admit that.

He finishes his meal, helps out with the washing up then decides to clear out his pack. It feels heavier than what it should be and the extra coin from selling whatever junk that's in it won't go amiss. He sits with Morrigan once again, a companionable silence having fallen between them. As he rummages through his pack, she is busy brewing up potions for the rest of the group. For the most part, they are both engrossed in their current tasks, until Theron fishes out a gold chain from his pack. It twinkles in the firelight and catches Morrigan's eye.

"What is that you've got there?" she says, potion brewing abandoned for the moment.

"I found it in Lothering, when the Flat-Ear was off doing...something," he answers. He can't truly remember where the Flat-Ear was, only that he'd become fed up and wandered off. "I was going to sell it, not really much use to me."

"I see." She returns to her potions, however she glances back to the trinket.

"What, do you want it?"

"No, no. Do as you wish with it. T'is none of my business."

A smile makes its way across his face and he stands up. Morrigan glances over once more, then ignores what he's doing. He walks behind her and she stiffens, stopping what she's doing, suddenly on alert. He kneels down, drapes the necklace around her neck and fastens it. He stands up again and returns to the spot he was at moments before, picking up the items he intends to sell.

"You are...giving it to me? Why?" she says, frowning. She holds the chain between her fingers, now utterly confused.

"I'm not blind Morrigan, you liked it the moment you saw it," he tells her.

"But surely you wish something in return."

He sighs. "You said 'do as you will'. Well there you are, I'm giving it to you, as a gift. There's no ulterior motive and I'm not after anything in return for it."

He's gathered all his items up by this point and he leaves, going over to Bodahn, ready to haggle the best price. 

He suffers nightmares worse than normal that night. He tosses and turns, then wakens with a start, midway through Leliana's watch shift. He feels terrible, feels sick, his stomach churning, threatening to show him the contents of his dinner again. He curls up, arms wrapped around himself, the nausea unbearable. His head is pounding. The pain thuds against his skull, as if there is some creature inside, pounding to get out. At the back of his mind, somewhere within the pain, there is a song, something calling, something tempting...He tries to shut it out, ignore it. Then as quickly as it came, it dissipates again, only the pain remaining.

He uncurls from his ball of suffering, deciding that perhaps some fresh air will do him good. He crawls out, Leliana on the other side of the camp at this point, and sits by the fire. Leliana returns and startles when she finds him there.

"Theron! I wasn't expecting..." she begins, then shakes her head and sits with him. "More bad dreams?"

He nods. "Feeling ill." He's entirely too miserable to even try and hide it. "If I thought Morrigan was awake, I'd ask her for something for it."

"What's the matter? Feel sick?"

He nods again.

"Don't bother Morrigan, I can help with that just as easily." She scurries off to her tent, Theron now trying to stay alert in case of a bandit or darkspawn attack while she's gone. She returns to him with a handful of herbs and she hands him the kettle. "Here, some mint. Brew it up and make yourself some tea, it'll help you."

He obeys Leliana, brews up the tea for himself, belatedly wonders if he should've made some for her too, then stays by the fire for the rest of her watch. He finishes the tea and Leliana's voice stops him.

"Theron you're bleeding," she tells him.

He panics slightly, checking for any open wounds, anything that he's missed.

"Your nose."

He raises his hand, tentative, sure enough finds a trail of blood. He wipes it away, shrugs her concern off, hopes she won't make a big deal out of it. He retreats to his tent, lies down and stays there until he is called.

He doesn't mention the incident to his fellow Grey Wardens, doesn't mention it to anyone. Leliana thankfully doesn't say anything, he doesn't know how exactly he'd explain it.

They reach the Tower, or the docks at least. There, stands a lone Templar, eyeing them and he crosses the pier halfway to meet them.

"You're not looking to get to the Tower are you? You're out of luck, I have orders not to let anyone pass," the Templar says.

The Flat-Ear frowns. "What? No one?"

"No one. So that includes you. Now be on your way."

"Can't you make an exception for a Grey Warden?"

The Templar raises an eyebrow and the resounding slap of Theron's hand against his forehead is heard around the group. Creators but he is clueless. The Regent declares Grey Wardens as murderers of the king and he wanders off and tells someone who they are? What's to stop this Templar fool from bringing more soldiers or bounty hunters down on their heads?

They're lucky the Templar doesn't believe him. "Oh so you're a Grey Warden are you? Do some righteous Grey Wardening, then. Prove it."

It's at this point that Theron steps in, more forcefully than what the Flat-Ear or Alistair would do.

"We don't have to prove anything to you shem. You either believe us or you don't. Now take across the damned lake," he orders, glaring at the man.

"Well I don't believe you and I'm not taking you across the lake."

The Flat-Ear sighs. "Can't we work something out?"

Personally, Theron prefers the idea of throwing the fool in the lake and rowing themselves across, however he knows that idea will go down like a brick.

The Templar looks over both their shoulders to where Morrigan stands and when seeing this, Theron gets into his line of vision with another severe glare.

"Well there is one thing...That dark eyed temptress over there," he says and nods to her. "Surely the tower would be too dull for her. Because it does get lonely out here...And you could leave her out here with me..."

Theron bristles, the Flat-Ear puts one hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him. The Templar is annoying him something terrible and while he knows he shouldn't let it get to him, he can't help it.

He looks over to Morrigan and she smiles sweetly, winks in his direction. He wonders what she's up to.

"Oh, excellent. I have been hoping for some new prey," she announces and takes a few steps closer.

The Templar pales. "Prey?"

She takes another step closer. "T'will take but a moment. Perhaps you should go aboard the vessel while we are away. We must row ourselves across. I fear the lad will not have the use of his limbs." She pauses, then adds, "Or his eyes, once I am done with him."

Theron raises an eyebrow, the Flat-Ear tries to hide a smile and Alistair watches on, saying nothing, but clear does not like the direction it's taking.

The Templar backs away, back to the boat. "Er...Maybe I should..."

Morrigan's smile widens. "Wonderful! I can sense his terror! That should make the loving all the sweeter."

The Templar has lost all colour in his face and he walks briskly to the boat. "So you wanted to go to the Tower? Maybe we should go now. Right now. NOW."

Theron too gets an evil look. "D'you know, I think I need to check my equipment before we go, I'm not sure I'm ready yet," he says.

The Flat-Ear coughs, hides his smile behind his hand. "Check it on the way then, the sooner we get across, the sooner it's over with." He looks to Theron and says quietly, "You're evil."

Theron grins. "Of course I am. Is that you just noticing?"

The Flat-Ear grins also. Apparently their truce has been called once again.

They get on the boat, granted it has to make two trips for everyone. The Tower stretches into the sky, intimidating as its shadow looms over them. The lake is not much better. It is dark and murky and looking into it, feels far more like looking into an endless abyss. It's cold too, the wind biting and he shivers, despite himself.

The Templar, once he deposits all of the group, is all too eager to get away. They enter the tower and are greeted by what sounds like shouting from the upper floors. This does not bode well.

The reach the upper floors, find Templars in full armour rushing out as if their life depended on it. The man in charge, continues barking orders at another Templar, ignoring their presence completely. Alistair looks around and over to the large double doors that are barred and from the looks of it, have no intention of being opened again.

"Are they keeping people out, or in?" he remarks, lips pressed together in a tight line.

The Flat-Ear shrugs, but he frowns at starts to approach what they assume to be the Templar's superior.

The man turns around and scowls when he sees the group. "I told Carroll not to let anyone in, who are you?" he demands.

For a moment, he thinks the Flat-Ear is going to back down, let Alistair talk them in or Theron. He readies himself just in case, waits for the Flat-Ear to say nothing, to bow to the shem like so many elves in the city do.

The Flat-Ear scowls and steps forward, ready to speak up. "We're Grey Wardens. And we're here to get assistance against the darkspawn," he answers.

_Because that looks likely and all _Theron can't help but think, though he bites his tongue. The Flat-Ear has surprised him, he didn't think he would stand up to the man.

The Templar sighs. "I am tired of the Grey Wardens' endless requests for mages." The Templar, Gregoir the Knight Commander, explains the situation. "You'll find no aid here, the templars cannot help you, nor can the mages. The tower...is no longer under our control."

"Why? What's happened here?"

"Demons. Abominations within the halls. The Circle is lost."

The Flat-Ear shakes his head. "But how did this happen?"

Greagoir sighs. "We don't know."

This answer does nothing to please any of them, though the Knight Commander does continue grimly. "We saw only demons, hunting templar and mage alike. I told my men to flee after I realised we could not defeat them."

This pleases the Flat-Ear even less. "So you left anyone who may have survived in there," he says. His fists are clenched and he has gone still.

Alistair quickly steps in, losing his temper at the Knight Commander will do nothing to endear them to him, nor will it help in getting the mages' help.

"What can we do to help then?" Alistair says.

Greagoir glares at the Flat-Ear briefly then turns his attention to Alistair. "I have sent word to Denerim, to call for the Rite of Annulment."

"And what's that when it's at home then?" the Flat-Ear snaps.

"It gives templars the authority to neutralise the Circle. Completely."

"Not happening." The Flat-Ear marches toward the barred doors, past the Knight Commander and turns back. "I don't believe that all the mages are either dead or abominations and I'm going in there to find out."

"You're a fool." Greagoir too marches toward the door. "There is no alternative. Everything beyond that door must be destroyed. There are no survivors."

"Did you look?"

"I didn't have to." He too looks at the barred door. "No one could have survived."

The Flat-Ear shrugs. "That's your opinion."

Greagoir pinches the bridge of his nose. "I see there is no persuading you otherwise. Once that door is open and you are inside, it will be closed and barred. I open them for no one until it is safe."

The Flat-Ear nods.

"If the first enchanter stands before me and tells me it is so, I will believe him. If Irving is lost...then so is the Circle."

Greagoir nods for the two templar guards to unbar the door and the Flat-Ear walks back to the group.

"Alistair, Leliana and Morrigan, with me," he tells them.

Wait, _what? _Theron scowls at the Flat-Ear. "And what am I? The afterthought?"

The Flat-Ear groans. "We can't bring all three Grey Wardens in here. We need at least one alive to end the Blight."

"And that can't be Alistair because...?"

The Flat-Ear opens his mouth to say something, shuts it again and can only offer a helpless shrug. Theron can't work out what it's meant to mean.

The doors creak open and the Flat-Ear turns away from him. Theron grits his teeth and watches them go through the doors and into the tower. As promised the doors are closed almost immediately and they are barred once more. 

It's been more than an hour since the Flat-Ear and the rest have gone into the tower. Theron is restless. With only the Qunari and the dog for company, the waiting is driving him mad. He glances to the door often, starts to pace, then stops and sits with the dog.

He stares at the door, as if it's going to open or melt from the sheer intensity of his gaze. He stands up, checks his knives and brushes off any dirt from the back of his armour.

"You are disobeying him?" Sten says. He's frowning, disapproving of what he's doing having worked it out.

"Yep. I've never liked taking orders from anyone," Theron answers.

"Then you'll make a poor Grey Warden."

"More than likely."

He kneels down to the dog for a moment, gives its ears a scratch then heads toward the door.

Greagoir, having already spotted him, steps into his path. "I'm not opening those doors again," he tells Theron, arms folded across his breastplate.

"What's one more?" he says.

"If you'd wanted to go in, you should've went with the rest."

Theron glances to the door again. "Listen shem...I mean Knight Commander." Creators does that stick in his throat to do, however calling him 'shem' will get him nowhere. Better to show the man _some _amount of respect, call him by his title. "Surely the more going in to deal with them, the better the chance this'll get resolved with the Rite of...thing."

There's a small, blink-and-you'll-miss-it nod to the two guards at the door and they hesitate. There's another more forceful nod and the door is unbarred again.

"You have until the reinforcements get here. Once they do, the Circle _will_ be neutrilised."

He doesn't need telling twice and he sprints through the doors, ignoring the slamming of them behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

There are bodies of mages and templars alike, elves and humans, all lying sprawled across the ground. It's silent, unnerving. The tower itself he finds unsettling, all that stone around him, no way to see the sun, no fresh air, nowhere to wander off to. No doubt the tower has places to hide, secreted away that only a select few know of. He has no time to explore, discover them and he doesn't want to. He needs to find the Flat-Ear and the rest of the group.

Not far from the corridor he entered, is a small group of mages and...Morrigan? He has to look twice and sure enough, she stands among them, a thunderous look on her face. She look around, eyebrows shooting up when she sees him.

"I see you decided to disobey our fearless leader's orders," she greets him.

"I thought you were with him," he answers, a frown on his face.

"I was. Until he met an old biddy of a healer and decide she was a _far _better companion to bring."

The other mages shoot a glare in Morrigan's direction at her comment. She ignores it.

"Well I'm going to find him. Feel like coming with?"

A smile appears on her face. "I was hoping you would ask." 

They make their way up to the second floor, for the most part, the abominations and demons have been cleared out, the route clear. There are voices from one of the rooms to the side and they follow it. Sure enough, the rest of the group is there.

The healer, Theron immediately recognises from Ostagar, Wynne, is passing out poultices to them. They look tired already, their armour covered in blood, some of the armour singed, the Flat-Ear's in particular, the edges of the leather. The Flat-Ear notices them first.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demands, striding over to them, fixing Theron with a glare.

"What the hell am I doing here? What the hell are _you _doing leaving Morrigan on her own in a demon-infested tower?" he snaps back, his annoyance at being greeted so boiling over.

"There weren't any demons until that point. We've been doing all the fighting, keeping them away from she and the rest of the mages were!"

He's about to answer when Alistair clears his throat to get their attention. "If you two are quite finished, we do have a tower to clear out of demons," he reminds them.

The Flat-Ear spins away from him, stalks back to Alistair, Wynne and Leliana. "Bloody come on then, since you're here now."

"If the door hadn't been locked behind me, I'd tell you to stick that order and turn back."

"And I'd let you!"

"You two!" Alistair yells, "Tear each other to shreds once we're out of here, right? We have a job to do."

The Flat-Ear gestures for them to follow, Theron tempted to childishly make a rude gesture behind his back. He follows all the same.

For Morrigan and Theron, they meet their first demon further along the corridor. There is a rumble, heat billowing, the smell of charred flesh filling the room. A roar resounds and a creature, all red and orange, slides towards them, another crawling from the floor to follow.

The others know how to fight this thing. Leliana takes to the side with Wynne, Alistair and the Flat-Ear take one each to fight off, only for more to spawn from the floors. Theron shakes himself, unaware he had merely been staring at the creature. He doesn't know if he wants to try fighting one off alone, however he doesn't have much choice, not when the rest are preoccupied.

He tries to stay behind it, backstab as much as possible and dive out of the way when it spews fire. It's difficult for him to fight, he's used to having a partner of some sort, be it Tamlen providing cover with his bow, or even the Flat-Ear. He's becoming used to fighting beside the other elf, he provides distraction for Theron to get in and provide a deadly strike, enough for the Flat-Ear to finish it off.

He can hear footsteps from somewhere and suddenly a shield crashes into the demon, sending it stumbling back. Alistair takes the chance and slashes at it. Theron slips to its side, rams his knives into its skin, dodges when it roars and tries to attack him.

They manage to kill it, far quicker than what Theron would've been alone, and he nods his thanks to Alistair, glad the man had been there.

They make their way up through the tower, fighting off more demons, Theron discovering just why Greagoir did not want to let an abomination out. Those creatures would haunt him, however what disturbed him far more, was that it was a person. A human or an elf, a mage. Now it is this...thing. Deformed, frightening. The further up they get, the more he seems to notice growths of what looks like flesh, poking out from the bases of pillars and up some of the walls. He doesn't want to know what they are.

They stop for a rest, enough time to catch their breath, deal with their wounds and eat something to keep their strength up. Alistair is the one to check on him, the Flat-Ear still in a mood. Fine, let him, Theron thinks.

"You all right?" Alistair asks and sits with him on the ground.

Theron nods. "I'll be better once this is over with."

"You're telling me..." Alistair glances to him. "Why...did you come to find us? Not that I'm ungrateful or anything. More the merrier and all."

"I was bored." He's lying through his teeth, Alistair notices and he grins.

"Were you worried about us?"

Theron snorts. "Of course not. Why would I worry about you lot?"

"Well I don't know. You tell me."

"It was boring out there, far more fun in here."

Alistair rolls his eyes. "Right. Because fighting abominations and demons is your idea of fun." He notices Theron's grin. "You are scary sometimes. And have a disturbing idea of what 'fun' is."

He says nothing, still grins.

"All right, up you get. Nearly at the top." Alistair stands up, pulls Theron to his feet and they continue onwards and upwards.

If nothing else, they are beginning to get used to fight demons now, at least until the Desire Demon. They hear her before they see her. She speaks lovingly to a templar under her power, sweet promises of happy children wishing to see their father before bed. The Flat-Ear has none of it and goads her into a fight.

What makes Theron freeze up are the living corpses. They are a chilling reminder of what he and Tamlen faced in the ruins. He feels his breath catch, memories coming forth and it takes the Flat-Ear moving in front of him to protect him to snap him out of it. He moves into battle, stabs at its side, lets the Flat-Ear fight it head on.

There are more templars, beguiled by whatever demon's influence. Through the templar quarters, they're getting close to the top and hopefully the source of the demons. Theron has lost track of time, how long it's taken them to reach this point. He only hopes the word from Denerim granting permission to 'neutrilise' the Circle hasn't come through yet. Greagoir never said just _when _he sent word for it, just how long this madness has been going on for. He can only hope they have enough time.

They reach the last door, the Flat-Ear kicking it open. On the floor is a dead mage and hovering over him is a large demon. It is a mass of flesh, a face that's almost but not quite human. It speaks in an enticing voice, invites them to rest and he wants to obey. His limbs are heavy, his legs go from under him and no matter how much he tries to fight it, he can't. His head hits the floor and he sees the Flat-Ear falling to his knees, struggling to stand again and ultimately fail.

Theron opens his eyes, sunlight greeting him and someone nudging his foot insistently.

"Will you get up?" Tamlen says and yanks the blanket from over his head.

"Oh go soak your head, I'm sleeping," he answers and sticks his head under the pillow. Wait. Tamlen? How is he here? And why does it seem so strange for his best friend to be there?

He gets up, goes to his friend and feels the urge to pull him into a hug. He doesn't know where _that _has come from, and to act on it, no matter how much he wants to, will only cause Tamlen to think him mad. More mad than usual at least.

"Finally. Come on, we're going hunting." Tamlen all but drags him out and over to his aravel.

The camp seems...different, the land unfamiliar. This wasn't where they had been before. Before...what? Something niggles at him, something he needs to remember but cannot. Was he to go to the Keeper for something? Avoiding punishment for something? Creators, what was it? He looks around Keeper Marethari and doesn't see her.

"Where's the Keeper?" he asks.

"Hm? With your mother, he told you earlier."

_He? _And his _mother? _

"Look, will you stop daydreaming? Sooner we leave, sooner you can go exploring. And get me into trouble, as usual." Tamlen shoots him a grin.

Theron nods and follows Tamlen.

Their hunt goes well. Still Theron can't shake the feeling that something just isn't right. He tries to ignore it, simply enjoy the hunt, the time with Tamlen. They're on the outskirts of a shemlen village and Theron can't seem to contain his curiosity. Tamlen sighs.

"You might as well be a flat-ear. Take you to a shem village leave you there," Tamlen teases him.

"Shut up. I only want a look around is all. You coming or what?" Theron answers.

Tamlen nods and follows him.

They don't get far, a woman approaches them. She is familiar to Theron, even though he's never seen her in his life.

"Ah, finally I find you," she says.

Tamlen frowns. "Lethallin, do you know her?"

Theron shakes his head. "No I...No." He looks to Tamlen then back to the woman. "Who are you shem?"

The woman tuts. "You do not recognise me? No, I suppose you won't." She sighs to herself. "Things are not as they appear. Think why you're here. What you came for."

Theron frowns too now. Think why he's there? He knows why, he's on a hunt with Tamlen. But there's still something not right, Tamlen shouldn't be there...

"You are a Grey Warden, and this?" She spreads her arms to indicate their surroundings. "None of this is real."

Tamlen barks out a laugh. "Him? A Grey Warden? And I'm a shem. Let's go lethallin, she's clearly mad." Tamlen takes hold of his arm, Theron doesn't move. "Lethallin?"

"She's not mad, she's right," Theron mutters. He looks at Tamlen, really looks at him. His chest tightens, he swallows a lump in his throat and draws his daggers. "Whatever you are, _lethallin, _you are not him."

Tamlen takes a few steps back. "You really want to put yourself through that grief again? Losing him a second time, this time by your own hand?"

"_Shut up._ Make things easy and die," Theron snaps at it.

The not-Tamlen draws his bow, fires the first arrow, aiming for Theron's heart. The way he feels then, the demon wearing Tamlen's face might as well have already done that. He rolls out of the way, Morrigan quickly casts an ice spell, freezing him in place. She shatters him with ease, a quick, easy death.

"You are yourself now, yes? You remember what happened, how we came to be here?" she says and throws a glance to the way he and Tamlen came.

Theron nods. "I'm fine. Where's the others?"

"In their own dreams like this, I suspect. Come, we need to find the rest and thus leave the Fade."

He doesn't argue and follows her without another word.

They find the Flat-Ear first. He has escaped his own dream by himself and attempting to make his way through the Fade. The three fight their way into the others' dreams, freeing each one and finally confronting the Sloth demon that trapped them.

It tries to promise a happier time for them, if they go quietly. It already did as much for Theron, being back with Tamlen, with his clan...what more could he have asked for?

"I'll make my own happiness, thank you," the Flat-Ear tells it and doesn't let it get another word out. He attacks it, the demon fading out of sight and fades back in, in the shape of an ogre.

"Maker...It just had to be an ogre..." the Flat-Ear mutters to himself.

At the very least, they have experience of fighting one together. They dodge out of the way when it charges at them, Leliana fires her arrows, Morrigan with her spells. Alistair and the Flat-Ear attack from either side when the opportunity arises, Theron from the back when he gets the chance. Wynne keeps them healed and Leliana moves in to protect both mages when the ogre gets too close.

It is only its first form. When the demon is close to death, it shifts into a Rage demon and the fight begins all over again.

They can't keep this up, they can't fight each thing, one after the other. It's on its third form a Shade, after shifting into the form they met within the tower. Theron hopes it can't shapeshift into anything else, that it has no more forms it can change into. He's wrong. The Shade falls and the Sloth demon returns to its original form, a robed, half covered creature.

The Flat-Ear grits his teeth and launches into battle, slashing at it in a flurry. Alistair moves just as quickly, taking the first chance he sees and bashes it with his shield. Leliana isn't firing quite as often, she's beginning to run out of arrows and her shots are more precise. They hit their target exactly and she curses under her breath when some still miss.

They wear the demon down, until it finally falls, collapsing in a heap. The Flat-Ear lowers his blades, kicks it to make sure it's not about to get back up and kicks it again for the sheer sake of it.

The Flat-Ear seems to know the mage that meets them. He urges them to take something from his body, and though the Flat-Ear pleads that perhaps he can be saved, the mage is resigned to his fate. He will die, he will not be returning with them.

He doesn't know who is the first to awaken, but it is certainly not him. Someone is shaking him and he opens his eyes, ignoring the urge to shut them again, no matter how heavy they feel. Alistair is there, the Flat-Ear rousing Leliana, Wynne and Morrigan already on their feet.

He gets up, runs his hands over his face and tilts his head back to face the ceiling. The Flat-Ear is no better. From where he stands, Theron can see him dragging his feet, his shoulders hunched and he shakes his head repeatedly. The elf is exhausted, they all are and yet there is still another floor to go. Theron dreads it.

The Flat-Ear doesn't say anything of his weariness, no matter how obvious it is. He gives the order to move and they run up the stairs. There are more abominations and now dragons to contend with. They do not fare so well this time.

One dragon leaps upon the Flat-Ear, it takes him too long to react. Theron is the closest and with a cry, he races toward the prone form of the elf. He stands over him, acting as a shield until either Alistair can get there to back him up or Wynne gets the Flat-Ear back on his feet with a spell. The dragon is dispatched by Leliana's arrows and Wynne hurries over.

"I haven't much mana left and we seem to be running low on potions," she tells them. "I can patch him up, but I wouldn't risk trying to fight. Not until I can properly heal him."

The Flat-Ear swears. "You're joking."

"No, I am not. And while your friend may like to disobey orders," Wynne shoots a pointed glare in his direction and Theron suddenly finds the floor far more interesting, "I do not suggest you disobey _mine."_

The Flat-Ear huffs and folds his arms over his chest. "Fine. Go deal with this Uldred without me. I'll stay here. Like I have much choice."

Theron snorts. "You're getting a rest and you're complaining? There's no pleasing you."

The Flat-Ear rolls his eyes. "Just get going."

Wynne does what she can with some poultices and a little healing magic then Theron leads the group this time, Alistair happy to let him do so. They hurry up towards the last floor.

The last room is worse than the rest. There are body parts, lumps of flesh on spikes, pools of blood on the ground. The smell of it, the rot, the decay and smell of meat is enough to make him want to vomit. There is a magical shield, a templar inside it, praying fervently. The sight of him is enough to give Wynne pause.

"I know this boy," she tells the group and turns to the caged templar, "Rest easy, help is here."

The templar cries out. "No! I know this game. Stop, enough. If anything in you is human..." he begins muttering more prayers.

"The poor man's been tortured, probably denied food and water," Leliana says, already reaching for her own skin of water. "I can tell."

"Oh can you now?" Morrigan remarks, and earns a frown Leliana.

She ignores Morrigan's remark, approaches the cage and tries to offer the templar her water. He glares at her. "Stay away from me! Filthy blood mages! I will not break...I'd rather die..."

Theron steps in, guiding Leliana away from the cage. He kneels at the cage. "Hey, enough of that. You're not dying today, not if I can help it," he tells the templar, trying to seem reassuring, but sure he's failing.

He seems to be proved right when the templar stands up and gasps when Theron and the rest of the group still stand before him. "But that always worked before...I close my eyes but you're still here when I open them!"

"Because I'm not going to disappear every time you blink. I'm here to help." _Grudgingly _he adds silently.

"Did Greagoir send you?"

"Sort of. In a round abouts way."

The templar nods. "Good. Kill Uldred, kill them all for what they've done." He swallows, wets his lips and continues, "They caged us like animals...looked for ways to break us...I'm the only one left. There was nothing I could do..."

"We'll deal with it now. Where are the other mages?"

The templar frowns. "Others? What others?"

"Irving and the other mages who fought Uldred," Wynne adds.

"They're...in the Harrowing chamber. Maker the sounds that came out of there..."

Theron scowls. "We need to go then, now." He makes for the stairs.

"Wait!"

He doesn't listen, ignores the templar's calling and runs up the stairs, the others following him and goes through the door at the top.

The room is large and circular, in the middle one mage surrounded by abominations, a bald mage, that Theron guess to be Uldred, in front of him. The other mages are herded together, in another cage similar to that which they left the templar in. The mage in the middle is pulled high, Uldred, speaking quietly to him. Theron has seen enough and as he approaches, the mage is dropped to the floor, his body engulfed in light and begins to change. Uldred notices them then.

"Ah...An intruder, I bid you welcome," he greets them with a smile. He looks them over, Theron in particular, something that makes him uncomfortable and he draws blades.

"Shove your welcome," Theron growls.

"Oh like that are we? Very well. I am impressed you're still alive. Unfortunately, that must mean you killed my servants."

"Just like I'm going to kill you."

Uldred groans. "Resistence! Always resistence! I even have the first enchanter on my side..." He gestures to the eldest mage there. "Don't I, Irving?"

Wynne gasps. "What have you done to him?"

"Stop him...He is building an army..." Irving manages.

"And here I thought he was starting to turn. That's enough out of you." Uldred turns his attention back to Theron. "He'll serve me eventually, as will you..."

"No, I don't think I will," Theron answers.

"Fight if you must. It will just make the victory all the sweeter." Uldred chuckles.

He transforms into a demon, larger than any they've encountered so far. The group scatters, all different ways, all trying to get to the best positions. Not only do they have Uldred, but there are three abominations to deal with too. For a few moments, Theron wishes the Flat-Ear were there. They'll have to cope.

_Take out the abominations, _he thinks, _Get Uldred when you can. _This is the plan he tries to stick with. Wynne and Morrigan do what they can and take what little supplies they have left. Leliana's arrows are deadly and they hit the abominations, dealing with them swiftly.

Now it is just Uldred. He charges them, causing them to scatter again. Alistair attacks from the front, Theron from the back. The mages' spells are little more than a distraction to him, it, their mana seemingly too drained to conjure up much else.

Theron dives away from it, over to Alistair's side and he drags the man out the way, just as Leliana fires another arrow. Uldred roars and charges her. She rolls, stands up and fires again. It swipes at them, Theron using the distraction to get in close behind it. Alistair attacks once more.

There is an opening, a brief chance to end the battle, finish Uldred off and Theron takes it. He runs towards it, leaping at the last second, both daggers aimed at its chest. They plunge into the skin, blood spraying, Uldred roaring in his ears and he hangs on, desperately. The desperation is what keeps him clinging, makes him plunge one knife into its chest again and again. It falls, Theron going with it and he stays on his knees, on the demon's chest, panting, covered in blood. It is over, the Circle is saved.

Wynne is the first to approach Irving. She checks him over, while Morrigan approaches him.

"T'was a foolish thing to do, leaping at it like that," she tells him.

He raises his head wearily and gives her a tired grin. "It worked though."

"Indeed it did. It was still stupid of you."

"It's what I do."

He hops down onto the ground, Alistair and Wynne already helping Irving to his feet and over to the staircase. Theron looks back to Morrigan. "I'll check on the Flat-Ear, make sure he's still with us. I'll catch up."

He walks towards the stairs, returns to where they left the Flat-Ear. He is still there, poking his finger through one of the holes in his armour. On seeing Theron, he struggles to his feet, leaning against the pillar for support.

"You made it then," he says. "Is everyone all right?"

"We may need a few days off and a more supplies but we'll live," Theron answers. He slings the Flat-Ear's arm around his shoulders.

"Good..."

"Alistair and Wynne are bring the First Enchanter down to the Knight Commander. May take some time, the pace we're going at."

The Flat-Ear laughs quietly then winces. "Daresay it will. I'm...grateful you came back, by the way."

"What, miss your verbal sparring partner?"

The Flat-Ear rolls his eyes. "Fine, be like that. Just thought I should tell you."

"Whatever, Flat-Ear. Let's get moving. See if we can get down there before them."

The Flat-Ear shakes his head and lets Theron support him down the stairs, cursing all the way.


End file.
